


Touch

by Ceallaigh



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars - Episode VIII, Star Wars - The Last Jedi - Fandom, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Emotional Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Force Bond (Star Wars), Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, Missing Moments, Mutual Pining, Reylo - Freeform, SantaIsAReylo, Secret Santa, Underrated Reylo, Will earn its rating in a later chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 11:27:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13122774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceallaigh/pseuds/Ceallaigh
Summary: The bond always seemed to open when they were at the most vulernable. More importantly the Force always seemed to open the bond when they needed each other the most and remind them that there is a fine line between passion and hatred.





	Touch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kyriadamorte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyriadamorte/gifts).



> Written for @futurecatladies for the Underated Reylo Secret Santa.

Kylo Ren wakes with a strangled gasp as he sits bolt upright in his bed. It takes him a moment gather his bearings and convince himself he is in is quarters aboard the Finalizer. Only when he finally focuses on the quiet whir of ventilation system is he convinced that the phantom vibrations of an unseen lightsaber mere inches from his neck are nothing more than the last remnants of his dream and that the room is not bathed in a sickly green light. It doesn’t matter, and he calls his own lightsaber to his hand to defend himself and it’s on in the blink of the eye, its sparking and hissing red drowning out the darkness.

His heart pounds in his chest in a shuttering double-time rhythm, and his sweaty hair is plastered to his forehead. It’s not the first time he’s returned to that night in his sleep, and it certainly won’t be the last. He hates how it makes him feel like a weak and terrified boy afraid of the dark. He waits until the last remnants of his dream slip back into the folds of his mind before he deactivates his saber and throws it across the room in disgust. It clatters against the far wall, and the room is darkened once more.

With a shaky breath, he rakes his hand through his tangle of hair before swinging his long legs over the end of the bed. So much for sleep, he thinks to himself. He knows it will be next to impossible to go back to sleep after that. This dream in particular is always a recipe for insomnia.

He’s about to head to the fresher and get a sip of water to chase the bile way when the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and the ambient sounds of the spacecraft fade into nothingness. The bond has opened once again and Rey stands before him at the foot of the bed.

“Get out!” she snarls through bared teeth. 

The Supreme Leader of the First Order with an infinite army at his feet, and all Kylo can do is respond with the airs and graces of a grade schooler, “I was here first.”

She has appeared to him several times since the battle on Crait. Usually it’s a fleeting glimpse of her—laughing with her friends, a brief look from across the room or a stolen glance where he feels like a thief catching her in a moment of vulnerability. Sure, he has vowed that he will destroy her, but it still aches deep inside when their bond opens and she seems so near. 

But now there is none of that raw vulnerability. Tonight she cautiously stands in front of him like a pit viper about to strike, furious that he has found her from thousands of light years away. 

“I mean it, Kylo,” she warns. “Get out, or we’ll find out if I can make you bleed through this stupid bond.”

He holds his hands up in surrender. Not in the mood to fight with her tonight, he lets out a weary sigh and quietly answers, “You know I can control this thing about as well as you can. If we ignore each other long enough, it will just close.”

“Then get out of my bed,” she spits. “I want to get some sleep.” 

“I’m not in your bed,” he points out. It’s not the first time their day and night cycles were in sync. “I’m in mine.”

She looks him up and down before letting out a sound of disgust. “At least put a shirt on,” she adds. 

“Says the girl not wearing any pants,” he quips, trying not to laugh. He may only be dressed in a pair of black knit sleep pants, but she was standing in front of him in nothing more than a tee and a pair of underpants. 

“I was going to bed!”

“I was already sleeping!” he bites back as she bends down and pulls a pair of leggings she had likely discarded earlier over her legs.

She sits down at the foot of the bed and bends over to retrieve one of her boots that had probably been sitting next to its partner. She shrugs it on before returning for the other.

“You cried out,” she says, the malice in her voice slipping away. “It’s when this thing opened again.”

“No, I didn’t,” he lies. His ears flush with shame. It’s been a telltale giveaway of his emotions since he was a child. It’s one of the reasons he grew his hair to cover them.

She rises to a stand and heads to the door. “Look, Kylo,” she says. “I’m absolutely exhausted, and I can’t deal with this right now. So, I’m just going to go for a walk, and hopefully you’ll figure out how to leave by the time I get back.”

Loneliness, his only constant companion since childhood creeps in with its icy grip of jagged familiarity. She’s walking away from him again, like everyone who has ever been in his life. At ten, the feeling gutted him. At twenty-three he forged that pain into strength. But at nearly thirty, it hurts as much as when he was a child. In a moment she’ll be on the other side of a door in another star system, and he will once again be left wanting.

He can’t bear to look her in the eye right now. If he does he will likely unravel into an insecure mess on the floor. Instead he looks at his bare feet and offers the quietest whisper of a confession.

“A nightmare,” he sheepishly admits as he scrubs at the stubble on his face with the palm of his hand. “I had a nightmare. That’s all.”

Rey stops at the door. Her hand ghosts above the control panel to open it before she turns. Her features soften with as she asks, “What did you dream about, Ben?”

The question catches him off guard, and any urge to argue with her fades away. But he hates how the mere mention of his birth name makes him feel so exposed, as if all his soft and vulnerable parts are laid bare for her to slash open and bleed. 

“Don’t call me that,” he says as his eyes slide shut. It’s easier to shut people out than to let them in. He’s had to learn that lesson far too many times since he was a child.

“But it’s your name,” she says as takes a few steps closer to the bed where he sits. “You didn’t mind when I called you ‘Ben’ before.”

Before she like everyone else in his life cast him aside. She was no different. 

It’s late, he’s exhausted, and he isn’t prepared to deal with her kindness. Compassion only causes suffering, his master had once told him. Compassion makes you weak, his master had warned. But his master is dead, and he wonders if all of Snoke’s lessons were predicated on lies.

“I’m not him,” he says as unmistakable sadness creeps into his voice. “And I’m not who you thought I was. I’m just a monster.”

Rey sits down on the bed beside him, the warmth of her skin penetrates him. “Ben?” she asks.

Kylo looks up at the ceiling and lets out a shaky breath. The last thing he wants to do is share his insecurities with anyone. It’s so much easier to deal with these emotions with a lightsaber and things that can be hacked into a thousand smoldering bits.

“I hate this,” he whispers to no one.

An uncomfortable silence fills the room. He scratches nervously at the back of his neck. He knows he doesn’t have to answer the question. She knows him all too well and already knows the answer before the words could even form on his tongue. After all, he’s always been as easy as a book to read. It’s one of the reasons he hid behind a mask. People fear monsters in masks, not weak little boys with fear in their eyes.

“You dreamt about your uncle, didn’t you?” she declares with absolute certainty. “About that night…”

He doesn’t let her finish her question before he nods and quietly answers, “Yeah.”

She knows. He’s shared this memory with her before. He doesn’t want her to see again how scared he was that night or how it felt to be thrown away like garbage. So he buries that insecurity down deep and tries his best to find the last remaining ounces of bravado.

“It’s ridiculous, I know,” he says, trying to minimize the whole thing. “Of all the things to dream about—and trust me, there are a hell of a lot more where this nightmare comes from that keep me up at night—this is the one that…”

He trails off, unable to finish his thoughts. But suddenly he’s just a student back in that hut, and the uncle he once loved is standing over him with his blade drawn, a hair’s breadth from striking and snuffing out his life. If he closes his eyes, Kylo is certain the world will be bathed in green, and he angrily blinks back tears hoping that fury will win out and the fear will be pushed back once again. 

His nose begins to run, and he swipes at it with the back of his hand. “The mighty Kylo Ren,” he bitterly chokes out, “afraid of shadows that go bump in the night.”

Rey tries to put her hand on his leg. He knows she’s trying to comfort him, but she’s just another that will use these insecurities against him. She’ll use it as a weapon just like his master did. 

“Don’t!” he warns. “You’re just another person I…”

_Dared to care about. Dared to trust. Dared to love?_

“You’re just another person that wants to kill me.”

Rey, that stubborn, hopeful girl, doesn’t back down. 

“You know that’s not true,” she answers.

This time he doesn’t pull away when she tries to place her hand on his leg. He knows she isn’t real, that she’s squirreled away with the murderers, thieves and traitors he has vowed to extinguish. But her hand his is still warm against his leg, and if he listens through the bond he is sure he can hear her heart beating as keenly as if it were his own.

He should hate her. He’d be a fool to think otherwise. Ben Solo has been a fool and a dreamer since he was a child, and he isn’t going to push her away when she is this close.

Kylo scrubs at his eyes and adds with a sad laugh, “Funny thing is, I don’t even remember what he said to me that night.”

“…but you still remember how it made you feel,” Rey says finishing his thoughts. 

“Something like that.”

Rey doesn’t say a word. She kicks off her boots before guiding him back into the bed. He puts up no resistance she tucks the blanket around him before lying beside him.

“When was the last time you slept through the night, Ben?” she gently asks.

He stares at the ceiling as though it holds all the answers. After a moment he finally answers, “I don’t.”

The demons come at night, those unspeakable sins he’s committed after pledged everything to that monster of a master. He gave Snoke everything—his life, his muscle, his mind and his soul. Those who he has slaughtered visit him in his dreams. Some nights its fellow students. Other times it’s his father who still begs him to go home. Dreams come unbidden and leave him clutching at the sheets gasping for air each time until they dissipate. 

She wordlessly traces a pattern on his bare shoulder with her finger. The bond has never felt stronger. She isn’t just a phantom image. Rey is as real as she was when the fought side-by-side. He worries that if he says anything, he’ll ruin their connection and he’ll be once again alone with his thoughts in the darkened room.

“So lonely, so afraid to leave,” she muses. “At night, desperate to sleep.”

It feels a lifetime ago when he had said that to her. They aren’t all that different. But he has known it when he’d sensed in her when they first met. Two insomniacs alone with their own thoughts.

He rolls to his side to look at her. Rey’s face is scrubbed clean, and he can’t help but note the constellation of freckles that dust across the bridge of her nose. She must have taken a hydro before the Force connected them. Her hair is still damp and the floral scent of soap still clings to her skin.

He reaches out and tucks a tendril of hair behind her ear and wonders what her side of the bond looks like. It has to be better than the sterile surroundings of his own chambers. “What are we doing here, Rey?” 

He should be plotting the Resistance’s destruction, not sharing a bed with its great hope.

A small but determined smile creeps across her face and she answers, “We’re going to sleep, Ben.”

“I don’t understand,” he says.

“We’re both dead on our feet,” she explains, “and I don’t feel like fighting with you.”

Kylo yawns. It’s still several hours before his alarm will go off. There’s a War Council meeting at 0700, and it would probably be best if he doesn’t doze off at the that meeting. Yet he’s reluctant to close his eyes. He knows the bond will close again once he falls asleep and Rey will once again be light years away. He’s selfish and cherishes these stolen seconds with her. In the morning she’ll be gone. She will be on the opposite side of the war once again, and his heart aches at the thought of it all.

“Go back to sleep, Ben,” Rey urges as she leans in and kisses the tip of his nose. “I’ll make sure the nightmares stay away.”

His eyelids grow heavy, and no matter how hard he tries, he’s unable to stay awake. As he drifts off, he listens to the gentle ebb and flow of her own breathing. Rey has drifted to sleep. And as he slips into slumber, the dreams stay away. There is nothing but quiet peacefulness that wraps around him like a blanket. 

The demons will stay away tonight, and for the first time in what feels like a lifetime, Ben Solo does not feel like he is alone.


End file.
